


Little Marks (like old scars)

by writerdragonfly



Series: scars remind us [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: FTM Len, Family Secrets, Female to Male Transitioning, Gender Dysphoria, M/M, Some accidental transphobia, unsafe binding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:49:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5810671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writerdragonfly/pseuds/writerdragonfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The worst part about his father was that sometimes, he did things that made Len love him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Len

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragdragdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragdragdragon/gifts).



> For Jamie, who never fails to inspire me. ♥
> 
> Please note that I've been notified that this fic is potentially triggering. I will add specific trigger warnings to the notes soon. Comments, questions, and concerns are welcome. [July 7, 2016.]
> 
> Please note: this fic may contain triggers for unsafe binding and incorrect and possibly (accidentally) transphobic references to the character's gender. I'm working on a less abrasive and offensive way of getting the offending character's view across, and will continue to update the offending lines as I work through it. It is not my personal viewpoint on gender assignments.

The worst part about his father was that sometimes, he did things that made Len love him.

 

When Len was eight and before Lisa was born, he'd told his father in no uncertain terms that he was a boy. His father just took one look at him, said okay, and that was that.

 

Lisa never knew that he'd been born as Leona; it was certainly never something that Lewis felt the need to talk about. Once--and only once--another cop had asked his father about Leona, and his father had just looked at him and it never went any further than that.

 

Len hated his father for so many things, hated the lessons and the games and the punishments. He hated the way Lisa became a pawn to him, to play against Len with.

 

But his father's acceptance of him--so easy and clear--had made him feel loved for a long time. Far longer than it should have.

 

-x-

 

When Len is twenty-eight, and Lisa is fifteen, he finds a handful of his mother's old journals in a safety deposit box he's robbing.  He doesn't know they're hers at first, initially doesn't plan to take them at all. But there's also a loaded gun, six passports, and almost ten thousand dollars in unmarked, non-sequential bills.

 

His curiosity gets to him.

 

It feels as if it can't be a coincidence, later, but he never does find out for sure if it was planned.

 

His mother died when he was too little to really remember her, except faint memories of dark skin and vanilla perfume.

 

_He wants a son. I know this. I am afraid what he might do if the baby isn't a boy._

 

He doesn’t know who they belong to, not at first. He’d only looked at the first three passports in the bank itself--all belonging to the same face with three very different names--before he stuffed the entire contents into his bag alongside the black velvet bags of diamonds he’d pulled from the box next to it.

 

He didn’t look through the rest of them until he’d been paging through the books, taking in the steady curve of the author’s writing, soaking in the words she scrawled on the unlined pages.

 

_The doctor tells me it looks like a boy. But I can't help but feel that he's wrong. I'm afraid to tell Lewis how I feel._

 

Somehow, he just knew. He stared at the grainy face on the passport, and just knew.

 

_Leona is a quiet baby.  She's very perceptive, always staring at things. I know her quiet has a great influence on Lewis, but I still fear that he will_

 

And then Len knew, without a doubt, the only reason why his father had accepted his declaration of boyhood.

 

_I’ve made preparations to leave. I know I only have one chance to get away, to take Leona far from here. But I am afraid. Leona turns two in a few days._

 

His father always wanted a son, and Len gave him one. It wouldn’t have been hard for his father to change the records and it wasn’t as if his father discussed him much with anyone. Len had to change schools, but it wasn’t as if he’d liked the old one much anyway.

 

He doesn’t really remember his mother, but he gets to know her through her journals. They stop, almost abruptly, the day before his second birthday, where his mother’s last entry ends mid-sentence, and then there’s a letter written to him. (To _Leona._ )

 

_We leave tonight. I am afraid that your father knows, that he’ll find out. It’s likely that he will, and I don’t think I will survive his wrath if he does. You should be safe. I don’t think he will hurt you for my betrayal. But if this is the last thing I ever get to say to you, know this. I love you, I have always loved you, and I will always love you._

 

The three other passports are for him--three different names, three different identities, three ways his life could have gone.

 

But didn’t.

 

He wonders, once in awhile, after he knows that, if there’s a universe out there with Leona gets to stay with her mother. A universe where she’s always happy and never afraid. Where she never felt like a stranger in her own skin.

 

But then he puts his head back down, pastes a smirk on his face, and counts down the seconds.

 

-x-

 

 

He doesn’t transition easily. It’s not because he’s nervous, or because he can’t afford it.

 

(His father made sure _that_ wasn’t the case, and Len learned what being indebted to Lewis Snart really _meant_.)

 

The simple fact of the matter is that Len isn’t _allowed_ to let anyone in, isn’t allowed to tell anyone about Leona, and without telling anyone, he’s forced to do things in secret.

 

He spends most of his teenage years with his head down and his chest bound, and even for a few years after he’s out on his own, he’s terrified to let anyone know.

 

And then he reads his mother’s letter, takes her money, and escapes into the world of anonymity.

 

He doesn’t see Lisa for two years after that, but when he sees her again, it’s with his body finally starting to feel like it fits.

 

And Lisa, with her bright eyes and sweet smile, never even knows there’s a difference.

 

Just the way Lewis would want it.

 

(Except...)

 

-x-

 

He never really dates. It’s not that he doesn’t _want_ to, it’s not that he _can’t_. He knows a great deal of it is because he didn’t _have_ any formative experiences in high school or for a few years after that, because he didn’t have any reliable examples of healthy relationships. And though he has a body that mostly fits now, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

 

So he doesn’t date, and after a few failed one night stands, he doesn’t really have sex either.

 

Instead he plots and plans and steals, and lies to himself until he starts to believe he never really wanted anyone anyway.


	2. Lisa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thank you to [that-pumpkinspicewhitegirl](http://that-pumpkinspicewhitegirl.tumblr.com) for assuring me that Lisa's as awesome as expected. She didn't get to see the last bit, so you can enjoy that bit with her. :)
> 
> Please don't kill me. <3

Lisa is eleven years old when she finds out.

 

She's eleven years old and at the beginning of her first period, and crying into her pillow because it _hurts_ , when Len comes into her room with that sad little smile he gets when he's upset but trying desperately not to show it.

 

"What's wrong, Lise?" He asks, and Lisa wants to shake her head and tell Len to go back to his own damn apartment instead of pretending he didn't leave her here with dad.

 

Logically, she knows Len never would have left her by his own choice, she knows him far too well for that. But, logic? Not her friend at the moment.

 

She doesn't answer him.

 

"Lisa...”

 

But what can she say? Sorry, big brother, everything hurts like hell and our father was practically frothing at the mouth when I asked for pads? Sorry, but there’s a part of me that’s angry and hurts like hell because you left me behind?

 

Her stomach twists again, and she abandons the warmth of her blankets for the cold porcelain of the upstairs toilet. She heaves three times, and by the third, Len is at her side, rubbing her back.

 

She doesn’t really remember what happens after that, not clearly. But she does remember this: Len opened his backpack and pulled out a slightly battered box of menstrual pads and handed them over without a word, and when she counted later, there were six missing

 

And she remembers this: when she was six years old, she’d walked in on Len wrapping ace bandages around his chest, and he’d lied to her and she’d known it was a lie (because Len could never lie to _her_ ) but never knew _why_.

 

And really, she remembers this: Len used to wear his hair longer, a tangle of dark curls around his face--and once, she’d heard a neighbor kid tell him that he looked like a girl and Len _panicked._ He’d kept his head shaved since.

 

So Lisa doesn’t ask him, and he doesn’t tell her. Lisa is eleven years old and in the middle of her first period, and everything hurts, and Len hands her a box of pads and rubs her back and washes her blankets in cold water and promises her, “it won’t hurt forever.”

 

And she believes him.

 

Because Lisa is eleven years old and she thinks her brother used to be a girl.

 

And because Lisa knows that Len is the only person in the world she can rely on, other than herself, she doesn’t tell anyone.

 

-x-

 

When Lisa is fifteen, Len disappears. Her father is pissed, and for the first time, decides it means he’s ready to use her for his stupid jobs.

 

Lisa isn’t worried, not about Len. Because Lisa knows this: the only person who could ever really hurt Len is Dad, and if Len’s not around him, then Len is safe.

 

Lisa spends the next two years playing two different roles--thief’s apprentice and potential Olympic skater--and missing her brother something desperately.

 

The night she breaks her leg, two uniformed cops from the other side of town show up in her hospital room and ask her who pushed her down the stairs.

 

She tells the truth.

 

-x-

 

 

Len shows up the next day and helps her run away from the hospital and the soft voice of the social worker telling her, “it’s just six more months.”

 

Len doesn’t tell her where he’s been, what he’s been doing. She knows anyway. She can see the difference in him. It’s not just the way he stands--though he does seem to stand more sure of himself.

 

No, anyone else and she might not have noticed but if she knows anyone at all, she knows her brother.

 

It’s subtle, the alterations he’s made to himself. But his face is a little more masculine, and his clothes are a little less baggy.

 

She doesn’t think he’d want her to say anything about it.

 

Because she wasn’t sure, before, if his self-identification was because of their father. If it was because Lewis Snart has never wanted a daughter, never given a shit about little girls and dresses.

 

But Len _left_ in order to fit himself. He didn’t come back for their father, to give him a son.

 

He came back because _Lisa_ needed him.

 

So Lisa doesn’t say anything, not about what she knows.

 

She knows there’s a part of Len that wants to say, “you’re braver than me,” because she ratted their father out for hurting her. She can’t imagine how Len lasted as long as he did before she was there, how hard it was to take the brunt of their father’s rage for as long as he had.

 

If she was brave enough to stand up to their father, Lisa thinks it’s because Len was brave enough to show her how.

 

-x-

 

Over the years afterward, when they’re together--because they’re not, always--Lisa notices that Len doesn’t really go out and _do_ anything. He plots, plans, (and they’re _brilliant_ plans, far beyond their father’s,) but he doesn’t date anyone. He doesn’t pick up any beautiful women (or _men_ ) when they’re at bars.

 

And she doesn’t think it’s because he doesn’t want to. She’s seen him looking, seen the way his mouth twists into that bitter crooked thing that means “ _I’m happy for you_ ,” and “ _I’m totally jealous,_ ” at the same time.

 

She doesn’t know how hard it is for him, and as best as she can remember she’s _never_ seen him with anyone. But she wants him to be happy, find some happiness somewhere.

 

But she doesn’t know how to say that either. To tell him that she knows, that maybe she’s always known, and that the important people don’t and _won’t_ care. That there’s someone out there who will love him _for him_ , and not in spite of what he was born as.

 

So she doesn’t say anything, and hates herself for it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: Mick.
> 
> The next chapter should be up within the next few days.


	3. Mick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm only like 50% sure I like this chapter, tbh.

When Mick is sixteen, he spends two weeks in the laundry room of an illegal brothel doing laundry for Lissy Ramon in return for a place to sleep. At the end of his stay, he has sex with her in the waterbed in the basement and doesn't say a damned word one way or another about the fact that she used to be a man.

 

It doesn't matter none, never has. Never will.

 

-x-

 

He meets Len during a job when he's twenty four, and hates him on sight.

 

It's not a surprise to him that Len somehow becomes his best friend.

 

He's never really had many friends before, but he likes Len as much as he hates him. It's the good kind of hate.

 

-x-

 

Mick pays attention to people. He doesn't mean to, it's always just kind of happened. He just instinctively knows good people from bad, bad people from terrible people.

 

Len's always balanced somewhere in the shades of grey, steadily darker the longer Mick knows him.

 

But this isn't a surprise. Len doesn't trust people, not even Mick. Len's edges are hard and his heart is brittle, but Mick never once sees Len let someone in.

 

Mick's only two years older than Len, but he feels both unbelievably older and frighteningly young compared to him.

 

-x-

 

Mick's always known that Len wasn't always a Leonard. It's not obvious, but Mick's pretty sure no one knows Len better.

 

He spent a lot of time watching Len in the early days, and for a long time after it too.

 

He doesn't bring it up, because he doesn't give a shit. Just like Lissy, it ain't none of his business.

 

-x-

 

Len goes radio silent for a few months, and Mick doesn't worry so much as stops giving a shit.

 

Len will be fine, or he won’t.

 

Mick almost punches him in the face when he finally shows back up.

 

He doesn’t, and Mick is okay with not thinking about why.

 

Ever.

 

-x-

 

Mick doesn’t let himself be lead around by his dick. He never has. Sex is good, great even. But he’s never let it come _before_ the job, because the job is far more exciting than sex anyway.

 

He’s never seen Len let sex come before _anything_ , never seen him try.

 

He’s heard Len, though. Heard him grunt and pant behind closed doors, the squeak of mattress springs under one lone body, the exhausted hum of someone tired of being _alone_.

 

Len _wants_ but Mick knows that it’s not something he’d ever be able to give him.

 

Not because Mick doesn’t want to, because hell yeah he’d be all over that.

 

Mick just knows that Len won’t ever ask, and Mick’s done a lot of terrible shit to a lot of innocent people over the years, but he’s never forced himself on anyone.

 

-x-

 

They continue to be terrible to each other over the years and Mick doesn’t even care. Len’s still his best friend, Len will still back him up if he asks.

 

Len will still be there at his side in the thrill of thieving.

 

-x-

 

Except, one day, Len’s _not_.

 

-x-

 

It’s not that Mick is all that surprised that Len leaves him there. Len, Len has an issue with people getting close, with seeing him.  With knowing him.

 

And yeah, maybe Mick had let things get a little out of hand with the fire, but he certainly hadn’t meant to bring up the damn thing while he was oxygen deprived and his skin was crisping up like fried chicken.

 

_Have you ever even used your new bits since you got’em?_

 

Mick knew he was an asshole but he certainly never meant to throw Len’s secret in his damn face after _Mick_ fucked up the job.

 

-x-

 

And then, out of blue, just like that, Mick gets a call.

 

Len calls him and doesn’t say jack shit about Mick coming onto him or bringing up the fact that Len was physically born a girl.

 

Len calls him, and acts like the whole damn thing never fucking happened.

 

Except to say to him with that smartass smirk of his that Mick’s not bad looking but it’d be like fucking his sister and Len’s not into that.

 

Mick wants to be a smartass back but he’s met Lisa.

 

-x-

 

In all the years he’s known Len, he’s never seen him as bright as when he’s talking about the Flash. He’s never seen him that _aroused_ before--for that matter, he doesn’t think he’s _heard_ him that aroused before--but something about the Flash gets Len going.

 

Mick doesn’t see it himself, but he can’t deny that the Flash makes their choice of career a helluva lot more _fun_.

 

-x-

 

The thing is, it’s not like Mick’s holding a candle for Len. He’s not.

 

-x-

 

He hasn’t spent a lot of time with Lisa, especially not separated from her brother. So it’s a surprise when she slides up beside him in his booth in a diner and presses herself leg to shoulder against him.

 

“So, my brother’s been, _dare I say_ , happy lately, hasn’t he?” She asks, staring down at his menu as if this encounter had been planned.

 

“I guess,” Mick gruffs, because what the hell else is he going to say?

 

“I notice you haven’t picked anyone up lately,” Lisa says, and Mick isn’t sure he wants to know how she _knows_ that, “I thought we could remedy that.”

 

Mick snorts, taking back his menu, “I’m not sleeping with you.”

 

Lisa laughs, a bright smile on her face when she finally turns to him.

 

Her face is entirely too close to his.

 

“No, I had someone else in mind for you.”

 

-x-

 

There are things about him that remind Mick of Lissy, in a good way. He never _dated_ Lissy, but they were friends for a long time after those two weeks.

 

She’d died sixteen years ago, but the kid reminds him of her in all the ways that Len didn’t.

 

The smile, he thinks, is the most obvious part.

 

-x-

 

Lisa’s plotting--for whatever undoubtedly nefarious reason she had--with Mick’s love life, means that Mick can’t stop thinking about the fact that he’s fairly certain Len hasn’t had sex in the years he’s known him.

 

And maybe that had _been_ Lisa’s intentions, to control her brother’s love life by getting Mick invested in it.

 

Mick loves her a little for her sneakiness.

 

-x-

 

“You should just go for it,” Mick tells Len, “what do you have to lose?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Annnnd, we shall end with Barry. If I keep to this pace, it should be up within a few days. :)


	4. Barry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The scene that inspired the fic happens here.  
> Also, Barry decided to take over in the middle of my angst fest, so have an additional 1.4k with this chapter instead of the usual 1k of the others. <3
> 
> Jamie is a doll, and helped me get things arranged a little better. <3

Barry’s fourteen when he first realizes he likes boys almost as much as girls.

 

He doesn’t like anyone as much as Iris though, so he doesn’t think it matters anyway.

 

He doesn’t tell anyone about it. There’s no reason to.

 

-x-

 

Barry doesn’t really fixate on guys. He’s had years to come to terms--if silently--with the fact that he’s not entirely straight. But he doesn’t fixate on guys. It’s just _easier_ not to. It always has been.

 

So when it happens, Barry’s not really conscious of it. He doesn’t even _realize_ it until Iris teases him about his man-crush on Captain Cold.

 

His instinct is to deny it, so he does.

 

But he doesn’t stop _thinking_ about it.

 

-x-

 

The more Barry gets to know Leonard Snart, the more he likes the man. He doesn’t agree with him a lot of the time, doesn’t like the fact that he’s got blood on his hands, doesn’t like that he’s a criminal.

 

But Leonard Snart is also _more_ than a criminal, more than a killer, more than his past.

 

Maybe Barry’s naive to think that, but...

 

It doesn’t stop him from thinking it.

 

-x-

 

Sometimes Barry wakes up in the middle of the night, hard and panting, thinking about Snart pressing him up against a wall (a car, a train, a door).

 

He imagines the way Snart’s mouth would taste, the words he’d hiss into Barry’s lips, the way he’d hold him down with those muscular arms and _take him_.

 

 

 

-x-

 

“You're working with The Flash--should’ve known you were still the little bitch of a girl your mother gave birth to, Leona.  I thought you hated him.” Lewis Snart snarls.

 

“Not as much as I... hate you,” Captain Cold says as he shoots his father.

 

“Lisa was safe. Why did you do that?” Barry asks, because _Leonard Snart_ just broke their agreement.

 

“He broke my sister's heart. Only fair I break his.”

 

Barry watches as the man just _stays_ there, waits to be taken in, arrested.

 

He thinks, maybe, that Lewis broke Leonard’s heart too.

 

-x-

 

Iris has always been the more socially conscious one of them. She’s the one who would know what to do here, would know what to say.

 

Barry doesn’t know what the right thing is, but he knows what isn’t right.

 

He’s not a perfect person, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let what the man said stand.

 

Barry doesn’t know what to say to Leonard Snart about what his father had said, so he doesn’t say anything about it at all, not then.

 

-x-

 

Barry had no idea about Snart’s past, not an inkling. He doesn’t give a shit how Leonard Snart chooses to identify once he knows, though there’s a guilt that settles between his shoulder blades about his objectifying dreams of the man afterward.

 

(There’s a heavier one for the guilt where he dreams of Len as a girl.)

 

Iris would have been able to figure out the right things, but Barry isn’t Iris and...

He might not know exactly how to talk to Snart about it, but he knows enough not to tell anyone else what he’s learned.

 

That’s not fair to anyone.

 

“Today just proved what I've always known. There's good in you, Snart. And you don't have to admit it to me, but there's a part of you that knows you don't have to let your past define you. A part of you that really wants to be more than just a criminal.”

 

-x-

 

Barry’s not surprised when Snart shows up in his bedroom a few days after Christmas.

 

“You didn’t tell her.”

 

Barry shakes his head, relaxes a little.

 

“I didn’t tell anyone.”

 

“ _Why not?”_

 

He still doesn’t know how to answer, but he tries anyway. “It’s no one’s business but yours.”

 

Barry takes the plastic bag of marshmallows left on his bed as a thank you when Snart leaves.

 

-x-

 

It’s not like they’re suddenly Friends after that, capitals and all. Snart doesn’t start spending more time around him, doesn’t start calling him.

 

He texts him, occasionally, though Barry has no idea how Snart got his phone number.

 

Barry knows what he should do--he should hunt him down and put him back in prison.

 

But he doesn’t want to. It’s not just because he likes Snart, wants him. And it’s not just because he knows Snart’s deepest, darkest secret.

 

Growing up like he had must have been hell in and of itself, but he saw the look in Snart’s face before he shot. He doesn’t think he can blame Len for what he did to his father.

 

 

-x-

 

He meets up with him completely on accident. Barry is _hungry_ , it’s three in the morning, and there aren’t a lot of places open other than fast food.

 

The diner he finds himself at is fairly empty--in fact, the only other patron inside _is_ Snart. Barry knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t seem to help himself.

 

He slides into the other side of the booth.

 

Snart looks up, a flicker of surprise that he buries quickly beneath a raised eyebrow.

 

There’s a faint red mark on Snart’s chin, as if someone hit him but not with enough strength behind it to do any lasting damage.

 

“Barry.”

 

“Leonard,” Barry replies back just as evenly.

 

“ _Len_ ,” Snart emphasizes, and Barry nods.

 

“So, _Len_ , what’s up?” Barry asks, and immediately wants to take it back. Because, seriously weak.

 

“I’m enjoying a late night meal, _Bar_ ry,” Len replies with a smirk.

 

“Can I join you?”

 

There’s some sort of incomprehensible look from Len at that, but he nods after a pause.

 

It’s nice, just sitting there and eating together. Len teases him about his appetite, and somehow they actually manage to have a conversation that _doesn’t_ devolve into what they do outside the four walls of the diner, as Captain Cold and the Flash.

 

By the time they get up to leave, Barry’s surprised to notice that it’s nearly four-thirty.

 

Len starts to walk the opposite direction as Barry needs to go, and Barry only hesitates for a second before catching up with him, a hand on Len’s arm.

 

Len just raises an eyebrow at him, his lips twisted into the smirk that does things to Barry.

 

“Was this a date?” Barry blurts out, which isn’t what he intended to say (but is what he _wanted_ to say.)

 

The older man looks almost startled at the question, probably in part because Barry had totally forced his company on him.

 

“Did you want it to be?” Len asks, and there’s something off in his voice that Barry doesn’t know how to catalog.

 

“If I did?” he asks, and there’s something almost _soft_ about Len’s face then.

 

“You’re paying next time,” Len says, and Barry barely feels the kiss on his cheeks before Len is walking away.

 

-x-

 

Barry gets a text message a few hours later, and a part of him _hurts_ when he reads it.

 

[text: _Never been on a date before._ ]

 

He wonders if Len had to get drunk to admit it.

 

Barry ends up spending the day watching rom-coms with Iris, and planning--not out loud, because he’d never hear the end of it--dates with Len.

 

Because he thinks Len deserves that much, and well, Barry’s fantasies about them aren’t all about sex anymore.

 

Barry’s not sure they ever really were.

 

-x-

 

Len surprises Barry with an obscure Star Wars reference, which is how Barry ends up talking him into seeing the new movie with him.

 

He’s tense for the start of it, but as he gets invested in the movie, Barry can feel him relax.

 

It’s the good kind of awkward though, and Barry feels brave enough by the last half hour to slide his fingers into Len’s hand and squeeze.

 

He ends up staring at Barry in some wild kind of wonder that leaves Barry wondering who the hell fucked him up so much, until he remembers Lewis Snart’s snarl right before he died.

 

He’s not sure how old Len is--he probably read it once, back when he first met him, but he didn’t retain it if he did--but he hates the idea that Len never _had_ a relationship before, a real one.

 

It’s not hard to imagine that Len’s never been in love before, and somehow, it makes some of the little things make more sense.

 

Barry smiles softly, and turns back to the screen. He knows Len does too, a little after that.

 

-x-

 

They’re walking together after the movie, not holding hands but close enough that Barry can feel Len’s fingers brush his every few steps.

 

It’s a quiet, dark night, the world drenched in a lightly falling coat of snow.

 

“I’ve been... _invited_... to be a part of something,” Len says, and it feels like something heavy.

 

Barry pauses, steps in front of Len so the man will look at him while he says it.

 

“Part of what?” Barry asks, and Len’s lips curl up, just a little.

 

“Saving the world.”

 

-x-

 

Len kisses him goodnight. It’s not a long kiss, or a particularly passionate one. But there’s a _want_ there, Barry can almost taste it.

 

But he doesn’t rush Len, because there’s something there that he wants to last.

 

And Len is trusting him with the reins of their relationship, and Barry knows enough by now to have gathered he’s never _tried_ to let anyone else in.

 

“There’s good in you,” Barry reminds him after they break apart. Len gives him that slightly self-deprecating little smile but Barry shakes his head.

 

“No matter what happens once you do this, Len, you’re already a hero in my book.”

 

_Even if you can’t let yourself believe it._

 

-x-

 

After they separate, Barry ends up walking the halls of STAR Labs. It’s quiet, but not eerily so.

 

He walks into Gideon’s room, runs his fingers across the console.

 

“Gideon?” He asks softly, waiting for her response.

 

“How can I help you, Mr. Allen?”

 

“Is there... a way to keep in contact with Captain Cold while he’s on Rip Hunter’s ship?”

 

“ _Connecting,”_ Gideon says, and there’s a sound that reminds Barry of a click.

 

“Gideon?”

 

“Interfacing with Gideon on the Waverider is possible for limited periods while the ship is stationary. Would you like to connect now?”

 

“No... Thank you, Gideon.”

 

-x-

 

They get two more dates before Len has to leave. By the end of their fourth date, Barry’s managed to make out with him for an hour and it’s good.

 

There’s something _good_ about moving slow, when the rest of his life is moving so fast, when the rest of his life is _about_ moving fast.

 

There’s a part of him that doesn’t want Len to go, wants to have more dates before they’re separated for who knows how long. A part of him that doesn’t want Len to experience all these times, spend time with all these strangers, find something more than him.

 

It’s selfish, Barry knows.

 

Because this thing that Len is going to do? It’s important. Barry thinks that Len needs this as much as he needs Barry. A purpose. A reminder that _he’s_ important to more than just a handful of people.

 

Barry’s proud of him.

 

So Barry wants to be selfish, but he doesn’t let himself. He kisses Len goodbye, and though a part of him wishes they had more time as a couple before it, he’s proud of Len.

 

He watches him go from a distance.

 

-x-

 

He waits three days before he decides to make contact with Len. He hasn’t told him about being able to contact him, just made the man promise to tell him whenever they’re back where they belong.

 

Barry doesn’t know, exactly, what will happen when he asks Gideon to make contact, but he does know one thing.

 

Len’s doing this as much for Lisa as himself.

 

So Barry steals Lisa’s phone number off Cisco’s cell phone and calls her on that third day, asks her to come into STAR Labs. She’s armed when she shows up, but he smiles at her and just pulls his cowl down.

 

“Len tell you where he was going?” He asks her when she lowers her gun.

 

“Len? He lets you...”

 

“He asked me to,” he says to her, and she smiles just a little.

 

“You’re the guy he’s dating, aren’t you?”

 

Barry just nods, and leads her down a hallway.

 

They talk quietly, Lisa mostly prying while acting totally uninvested. It warms him to know she’s looking out for her brother as much as he looks out for her.

 

He locks the door behind them when they enter Gideon’s room, which ends up making Lisa put her hands back on her Gold Gun.

 

“Just locking everyone else out,” Barry says calmly, and then he presses his hands on the console, “Gideon, can you connect with the Waverider? We’d like to talk to Captain Cold.”

 

“ _Connecting_.”

 

There’s suddenly a projection in front of the console. It’s a small bedroom, mostly just a bed and a dresser built into the wall.

 

Len is sitting on the bed, reading a book that Barry’s fairly certain came off his bookshelf at home.

 

“Lenny?” Lisa’s voice goes a little strangled, and Barry can see the moment Len hears it. He bolts up, and then he’s staring right at them.

 

“ _Lisa_?”

 

-x-

 

“You hurt my brother, and I’ll make you wish you were dead,” Lisa threatens an hour later, as if he hadn’t just watched her near tears as she spoke to her brother when she’d mostly expected that she’d never see him again.

 

“I won’t,” Barry says, and he means it.

 

-x-

 

Dates five, six, and seven are sandwiched between peril and mortal danger; eight, nine and ten come between labor extensive cases and scant minutes between trips across time.

 

But Barry doesn’t _mind_.

 

They fill in their lives together in the empty spaces from before, and once they’ve been together long enough to start thinking about sex, Barry lets Len tell him all the things he’s been afraid to say for decades in whispers in the dark and quiet.

 

Their first time is slow, cautious, careful. Barry thinks he’s beautiful when he’s on the edge, proves to Len that he doesn’t care about the parts that don’t quite fit him yet with every touch and kiss and smile.

 

And they fight, and sometimes it hurts like lightning and frostbite, but Barry never once uses Len’s transition as a sharp barb or off the cuff derision.

 

They make up by tag-teaming the latest threat to the city and late night chats over Gideon while Len’s off in the vastness of time. It’s not easy, not always.

 

But it’s good.

 

Better than any fantasy.

 

 


End file.
